Lust Actually
by TamperedTemporaryBliss
Summary: She wasn't about to say anything more to this woman without clarifying her identity. Women like this—beautiful, daring, promiscuous—were dangerous. [Lust x Olivier]


_Wow. Been a while, hasn't it? Long story short, wrote this because I couldn't find much ff on this pairing. Special thanks to my support team/family who really got me back into the game for writing!_

 _Leave me a review/favorite, maybe?_

 _ **AU** , but only in terms of the timeline. Let's just pretend nobody's dead/dying and somehow the Promised Day isn't really a thing yet, yeah?_

 ** _Warnings:_** _M for sexual content, language... mild bondage (not really)...?_

* * *

She had three simple questions running in her head—what the hell was this place, what the hell was she doing here, … and why the hell was her brother here also. The first two she could roughly answer, although that did little to satiate the increasing annoyance she felt nipping at her very soul. Though she seldom frequented this sort of place, it was unmistakably a tavern. Heck, with the air so thick of booze and sex, even a person both blind and deaf would be able to tell within seconds.

Olivier heaved a sigh, leaning back against the wall, and took a swig of her beer. This special Northern brew was strong, and any average lady would surely have choked at it. But she was… well, herself. Strong. Definitely not a weakling. She watched from her dark corner as Buccaneer raised his glass, making a toast with a few other members of the monolith. At least they seemed to be having fun. Which brought her to the second question.

Fort Briggs had proved successful in yet another victory. After all, it was under her command, and how could any wall be penetrable with her in charge? She scoffed at the idea of losing. And then she scoffed even harder at the idea of this celebration. Pointless, counter-productive, a huge waste of time. If she had known that this was their plan when she was first invited, she sure as hell wouldn't have come. This time could actually be well spent elsewhere. Perhaps in the mountains a little to the West, where the never-ending winter was even more unforgiving. Even if it did little to improve her swordsmanship, at least it would train the soul and mind. This rowdy, stinking place was the last place she'd ever choose, being the practical equivalent of hell.

The third question. Her brother. Why. Olivier recognized a few other familiar faces from Central. Mustang, Hawkeye, Havoc. And… was that Izumi Curtis. Those sandals had to be hers. And her husband… Sig, was it? She understood why those few were here. They had helped, serving as backup to her men (as if they needed backup, though), and so she supposed a celebration of victory ought to include them. As for her brother… She turned her head away from where he was, standing shirtless with a pint of beer in hand. Four more and his top half probably wouldn't be the only thing naked, and she didn't want to be there to witness it. Damn it, just the thought of it made her need another drink. That good-for-nothing brother of hers…

She made a beeline for the bar table. Or at least she tried to. Olivier couldn't remember the last time she had been in such a jam-packed atmosphere that wasn't related to some military exercise. The sweating, grinding… Yuck. Though she'd consider herself close with most of her men, she would much rather not see this side of… all of them.

Shoving her way through several bodies, Olivier finally reached the bar table. This was more exhausting than defending the fort. She exhaled.

"Hey, beautiful, how can I help you?"

She felt herself stiffen, her cold, hard eyes instantly shot around to find the source of the lush, sultry voice. She didn't recognize it at all. They came to rest on a slender figure, leaning against the cabinets of alcohol. All she could see were red lips, smirking slightly. Right, taverns needed barmaids. She eyed the woman tentatively as she emerged from the shadows, leaning forwards across the table. Now, Olivier could see that her voluptuous breasts were practically spilling out of the tight dress. She had an odd tattoo on her sternum, too, almost inviting her to look further… down. After all, places like this were usually filled with men, and sex sold. Hard. Feeling a faint wave of disgust, she raised her eyes to meet the woman's.

"Need another drink?"

"Sure."

The glass was filled to the brim and then slid across the bar table. "Say… you've got some really mysterious eyes."

Olivier made no response to the woman's comments, nor did she pay any more attention to the woman, really. Grabbing the pint in her hand, she spun around on her heels, shifting her weight to lean on the tabletop with her elbow. From here, she had an even better view of what was going on in the tavern. She didn't really care to stay at the table, but considering how much booze she would need to get her through the evening, it seemed only appropriate that she would stay nearby. Besides, her previously occupied corner had already been infiltrated by… she didn't want to recognize the two there, doing whatever they were doing.

This place was such a waste of time.

"So… what's the occasion for this sort of celebration?" The voice was lined with an eerily sweet edge. It was somewhat unsettling, almost like a calm before the storm.

"None of your business."

"Mmn…" a mischievous giggle, "Someone sure is uptight, huh?"

She felt slender fingers hover over her shoulders and she instantly slid to the side before they could land. She gave the woman a cold hard glare. Maybe staying by the bar was a terrible idea. This woman was annoying, to say the least.

"What's your name?"

She didn't feel compelled to answer.

"Is it Olivier?"

The bar was a blur as she whipped around. "What the—"

"The Ice Queen of Briggs right?" The woman's lips had curled into a smug smile.

Olivier eyed her with a cold, hard glare. Just who the hell was this woman? To know her as the Ice Queen of Briggs would be something to expect. In this area, almost everyone knew who she was. To know her as Major General Armstrong would have been natural, too. Most her subordinates referred to her as that. But as Olivier…

She eyed the woman up and down once more. Did they know each other? Try as she might, she could not recognize the dark eyes that met her gaze, nor the flawless flow of ebony hair that framed her face. Surely, if she had known someone like this, she would have remembered. "Who are you?"

"Mnn… the men here know me as Solaris…" She hopped over the bar table in a swift, almost inhuman move, crossing her legs as she sat beside Olivier, "but I prefer to go by… Lust." The words left her lips in the softest whisper.

Olivier let out a smirk of her own. "A woman named 'Lust.' How fitting."

"It is, isn't it?" Lust sighed softly, situating her hands by her side and leaning back. "Want to guess how many of your men I've slept with?"

"So you're the kind of depraved woman who takes pride in such conquests, huh?" Olivier would have to admit she didn't want to know. As much as she liked to judge her men in an objective view, information like this would inadvertently affect her impression of them in an adverse light. Why was she still talking to this bitch anyway?

"Attention from men make me thrive." _And the occasional woman_ , she added in her head.

"You're the sort of woman I despise, then." She turned her head away from the strangely piercing gaze. She noticed that her brother was occupying a table in the corner, engaged in some manly display of arm wrestling with Sig. She wanted to leave already.

"Don't go." A hand rested on her shoulder before she noticed it. "I'm _lonely_."

In truth, it scared her a little that Lust's movements just seemed so unnaturally quick. She smacked the hand off of her.

"Cruel and cold, just as they say." Lust chuckled, turning to her side to raise a glass of red liquid to her lips. "Don't you ever wish for some warmth?"

"Warmth is for the weak. If you want to think clearly, if you want to grow, you have to forgo such pointless comforts."

"Interesting…"

The silence that hung between them was well received by Olivier. At least where the air was pregnant with conversation and laughter, she didn't have to be engaged in it. Besides, at least this would let her engage with her actual situation in a more removed manner. She wasn't about to say anything more to this woman without clarifying her identity. Women like this—beautiful, daring, promiscuous—were dangerous.

"Another?"

Olivier handed her glass over without a single word, and was handed a full glass back in seconds. The night was drowning on and on. She wanted out, but had somehow been convinced by Buccaneer earlier to stay till her men left. She was not one to break promises.

"Your tolerance is pretty high. You don't even look mildly affected."

Except in truth, she was, but just in the slightest way. She had lost count of how many beers she had been handed since she had arrived. But she was no weakling to let her guard down and get piss-drunk, like some of her men already were.

She felt Lust slide right up against her, and she took a step to her side. Did this woman not know what personal space was? And then she picked up a sweet scent in the midst of the sweaty bodies. It was delicate, fragile even, if scents could be described in such a way.

Lust slid closer again, almost leaning slightly on her, and the smell grew tenfold stronger. _Perfume_.

"Don't you think it smells nice?"

"You smell like a slut, if that's what you're asking."

"So cold… I like it."

Olivier turned, wanting to tell the woman off for good. Instead, she found her face only centimeters away from Lust's. How the hell was she moving in such a way that Olivier couldn't even sense? She pulled back instantly. _Must be the alcohol_ , she told herself, _last pint for me_. She lifted the beer up to her lips.

Lust grabbed her arm, pulling her close. Even through her clothes, Olivier could feel the woman's breasts rubbing against her. "I'm lonely."

"Damn it, go take a pick among the men in this room. There are so many." She tried to shake the woman off of herself, but she somehow still hung on. Was she losing her touch for real this time?

"But they're all so crude… rough…" In the dim light, Olivier wasn't sure if Lust's eyes were covered by dancing shadows, or if they had actually turned shades darker. What the fuck…

She felt heat rising slowly through her body. Was she slipped something in the beer? All the alarms were ringing loud and clear in her head. This wasn't a situation she wanted to be in, but she couldn't… leave…

"Who are you?!" She gritted her teeth, setting down the glass and using her hand to unwrap the woman's fingers from her arm.

"I'm…" the lips pressed into a lascivious smirk. Then those blood red lips parted, "your deepest darkest desires…" Olivier felt herself being dragged down a little as the woman leaned higher to reach her ear, "in flesh."

This was absolutely outrageous. She flung Lust off of herself with a swift movement, marching off into the crowd, leaving Lust standing alone by the bar. Olivier didn't look back. That woman was crazy. Dangerous, no doubt. She just needed some fresh, cold air to clear her head.

Olivier darted straight for the door, pushing it open and letting it slam behind her as she breathed in the frigid air. At least out here, she was alone, unaffected. Her golden locks fluttered in the harsh wind and she felt alive again. She closed her eyes and felt herself calming down. Until a certain smirk resurfaced in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut harder, her forehead creasing.

And then she felt it, she swore she did, that soft breathing in her ear. And she could smell the sweet scent, too. Her eyes snapped wide open, and she whipped around only to find darkness surrounding her. Lust was nowhere to be seen. Just what the hell was mixed into that last beer? She was unfamiliar with the growing desire within her. It must be impossible that such trash of a woman should instill any emotion or feeling in her. It didn't make sense.

In truth, Olivier had never felt any sort of sensuality or passion for any man. Were women supposed to be different? No, even if she were to be attracted to women, at least she would not be falling for _this_ type of woman. But what was the thing she said about being her "deepest darkest desires in flesh?" Some sort of sick joke, no doubt.

All she needed was a walk around to take her mind off of things. If she just focused on mentally reviewing the plans for the next military drill, she would definitely be fine. Her boots sank slightly in the snow as she walked further from the tavern.

The wind changed its direction, blowing strong across the unforgiving landscape. The lights and sounds of the tavern became dimmer and softer as Olivier made her way into the darkness. The cold was welcome as it slashed across her cheeks. She felt lighter again, the affects of alcohol being subdued by her strengthened will.

As much as she wanted to head straight for the Fort from here, Olivier knew she had to make her way back into the tavern. Easy. She just had to avoid the bar and avoid the woman, maybe get one of her men to get her the drinks she needed. Or maybe she should really just lay off on the alcohol.

Her feet dragged her slowly back to the reality of the night's celebrations. She opened the door and let it slam behind her again. Subconsciously, she looked around for her brother, catching a glimpse of his muscular arm being dragged into one of the curtained areas. Men would be men, she concluded, driven ultimately by carnal pleasures.

She scanned the rest of the room, her eyes flitting over the mass of people. She never understood the sort of hype that always seemed to permeate the air in this type of location. Her eyes rested on a slender figure of a woman with her arms crossed, leaning against a doorpost beside the bar. _Lust_. Once again shielded by shadows, her red lips seemed to glow.

Olivier felt an inextricable wanting rush over her as she made her way through the sea of sweat again, towards the woman. Why she did so, she did not know.

"Crap!" She ducked in time to avoid having beer spilled on her. Olivier glared at the perpetrator with distaste plastered all over her face. If her men could not resist making fools out of themselves, they could at least attempt to not dirty her clothing. When she returned her gaze to the doorpost, a shadow was all that remained. Were those lips and that slender figure a mere illusion created by her own mind? No, the gentle swaying of the curtain there meant that someone must just have been there.

Walking briskly across the hall and lifting the curtain to the side, she entered the room.

Her eyes took a split second to become accustomed to her dim surroundings. If the tavern was considered poorly lit, this was even worse. The moonlight shining through the window above seemed to be the only source of light.

"So you came back for me."

Olivier whipped around, her gaze resting on ruby red. The flickering of a hand-held candle revealed parted lips that screamed desire.

"Don't flatter yourself. I only want to know what you put in the beer." She reached down slowly down her thigh for her pistol. Her eyes remained fixated on the figure emerging from the shadows.

"Oh? Well, the usual…" Lust took a step closer, raising the candle towards her own face, gradually revealing her eyes. "Barley, for sure."

"What did you put in _my_ beer." Her voice was thin as she pressed her lips into a tight line. Her fingers felt the grip of the pistol, and she raised it immediately, pointing it at Lust.

Lust seemed entirely unfazed. Rather, she seemed to find it amusing. "Like I said, the usual." Her voice had a sing-song tone to it as she continued making her way slowly towards Olivier. She seemed to glide across the floor in one singular smooth motion. "Why?" She paused when her chest was mere millimeters away from gunpoint, "Feeling something?"

Olivier was silent. To admit it would be admitting defeat, wouldn't it? She gritted her teeth. Should she call for backup? Her pride wouldn't allow it.

"Do you want to know what you're feeling? I can tell you." She didn't seem to be waiting for a reply. "You're lonely inside, too, even if you don't acknowledge it. What you're feeling is called desire…" Her fingers wrapped around the barrel of the gun as she lowered it from herself slowly. "The body wants what it craves."

Olivier felt her arms weaken as the gun was slowly guided downwards, and she hated herself for it.

"Let me teach it to you." Her gun fell to the floor with a clatter. The candle blew out.

A pulse of anger rose to Olivier's face as her eyes readjusted to the moonlit room. She felt a foreign feeling well within her. Humiliation. And then she felt herself pressed against the wall in a swift movement. She tried to fight the force, but her hands were pinned above her head. Lust's strength was unnatural.

"Let me go, and I'll let you out of this alive," Olivier hissed, pushing her emotions as far down as she could.

"But we're just getting started." Lust's thigh had found its way between her legs. "Of course, I wouldn't force this on you."

Olivier felt her resolve weaken as she found Lust's eyes staring deep into hers. For some strange reason, she didn't want to say 'no.' She felt Lust lean in to whisper into her ear again, "Trust me. People who spend their whole life dominating others enjoy a little submission every now and then... Close your eyes."

Finding herself at loss for words, Olivier made no sound as she felt soft lips press against her own. She squeezed her eyes shut, torn between fighting off the feeling and embracing it. It was fresh, electric, enticing.

Lust moved her lips only slightly, and Olivier wasn't sure how to respond. Her body began to heat up quickly, just as Lust began to tug at her bottom lip. Fight as she might, she had come to begrudgingly realize that she wanted this. No, she _needed_ this. She felt herself go limp, and Lust's grip on her loosened slightly. She didn't try to fight it off this time.

Olivier didn't even realize when her wrists were entirely released. They had just somehow found themselves draped loosely around Lust's neck. She let Lust trail a series of soft kisses down her jawline, onto her neck. In fact, she welcomed it, tilting her head back into the wall. She didn't even notice Lust sliding off her coat or her fingers unbuttoning her shirt, and it was only when the cold air hit her bare shoulders that she realized it was off.

"So you're the type to bind your breasts, hmm? I suppose a fighter like you would find it easier to move." Olivier felt her chest tighten and then loosen as the binds unraveled in Lust's fingers. Keeping her eyes shut, she inhaled and exhaled sharply.

"You know, we could stop now if you want."

"Shut up."

Even without looking, Olivier could feel Lust smirking at her in that sickly smug way. The air hit her breasts harder than it did her shoulders, and she felt herself shudder.

Lust's lips resumed the trail down from her neck and onto her collar bone. Olivier felt her breath hitch as the kisses lingered just above her breasts. The silence of the room was screaming into her ears, feeding into her confusion at her own senses. She felt the trail of kisses move downwards, between her breasts and towards her torso. Her stomach instinctively tightened, and she let out a small gasp.

Then, nothing. Olivier could feel Lust's warmth surrounding her, but she could feel no touch. Just as she was about to open her eyes, she felt warm lips press against her own again, and— "Mmn!" Lust had brushed her fingertips over her breasts, over her hardening nipples.

"You know if you make too much noise, someone outside is bound to hear you. They'll want to investigate. After all, they would have just heard a girl moan, and with the bar maid missing and all…"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

A heavy silence hung in the room, and Olivier instantly regretted her words as she found herself pulled roughly from the wall. Her eyes snapped wide open as Lust dragged her towards the exit of the room. Was Lust going to push her outside, topless? No, she couldn't… she wouldn't. She raised her hand to fight off Lust and shield herself, only to find them bound behind her back. When the hell did that even happen? A faint sliver of fear coursed through her entire body, as she was positioned an inch from the curtain. At least it was opaque.

"Stand straight." Lust's voice was as smooth as running honey as she pressed against Olivier from behind, whispering in her ear. "In here, we play by my rules." Olivier could feel her breasts press against her back. Were those… nipples?

Lust's slender fingers snaked around Olivier's waist, gently running up and down her sides and her torso. "You make a single sound, and I can guarantee someone will notice and come running in." Her fingertips grazed the tip of Olivier's nipples, and Olivier gritted her teeth, biting back a sound. This feeling, so foreign and so new, was driving her around in circles.

Lust repeated the motion, again, this time a little harder. And then it became a series of fleeting but continuous caresses and flickers. And Olivier felt it all. Every. Single. Touch. And it all made her body shudder with increasing anticipation.

Her mind fogged over, and try as she might, she could not keep silent. She wasn't sure how long Lust spent with these simple motions, but Olivier found herself caught in the thralls of pleasure. Her voice came out in faint whimpers as Lust finally pinched her nipples, gently pulling and twisting at them. This… couldn't be real.

"Lust…" she managed to whisper, finding herself growing weak in the knees.

The instant she began to lose control of her legs, she felt the warmth replaced by a lingering emptiness. "Stand."

She turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman behind her. Her pleading gaze was met with devilish eyes and an equally devilish smirk.

"I said stand."

"I can't, I— Ah!" A moan sipped right past her lips as she felt Lust's fingers pressing against her through her pants. And she could have sworn the entire tavern had turned silent for a moment, and the world was still. She lowered her voice into a whisper as the hustling and bustling outside resumed. "Lust… at least let me lean against the wall."

"Are you begging me?"

Her wrists were unbound as she was pushed roughly with her back against the wall right next to the curtain. Olivier refused to answer, but she took the wall as a welcome respite all the same.

Lust smirked, "See what I said about being submissive?"

Another pang of cold air hit her as her pants came to pool at the floor with such swiftness that she could not have expected it in any way. This left her fully exposed and at Lust's mercy.

If there was anything she hated the most, it was being at someone else's mercy. And yet, this felt… She couldn't pinpoint the feeling, but she did not dread it as much as she expected herself to.

A cold fingertip trailed its way up from her inner thigh, until it hovered over her clit. Lust's eyes met hers in a locked gaze. All of a sudden, she felt blood rushing through her body. And then Lust _flicked_ it, and Olivier threw her head back, breaking the eye contact. And then the motion became a constant yet teasing rubbing, and Olivier found herself biting hard into Lust's shoulder in a silent scream. She was clawing into Lust's back involuntarily, needing all the support she could have as she experienced the raw pleasure. She felt sparks burning hot in her body, and she knew she was getting closer and closer to the edge. In all honesty, she didn't even remember when was the last time she touched herself like this.

Everything felt explosive. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prepared for feeling to come crashing down.

But it stopped. Gone, just before it hit her.

 _What?_

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Was this it?

"You… didn't think I'd let you off so easily did you?"

Before she could answer, Olivier felt Lust's body pressing on hers and their lips met again. She felt faint as she felt Lust's fingers dip into her folds, gently caressing her. Her lips parted in a soft gasp. She could feel every little motion, and this was driving her nuts. A hand lifted her leg and wrapped it around Lust's slender waist. It took only a second for Olivier to regain her balance on her other foot. Olivier pulled her closer as she felt Lust smirk into the kiss.

And then her eyes shot open as she felt something press against her insides. This feeling, safe to say, was entirely new to her. Her lips left Lust's as she felt her finger moving in and out, slowly, but steadily, rubbing against… she wasn't sure what it was, but it felt _good._

But it wasn't getting her very far, definitely not as far as before, and she wanted… more… Olivier found herself pushing on Lust's shoulders, wanting her to do something. Anything.

Lust bent down, moving Olivier's leg to rest on her shoulder, watching as Olivier closed her eyes. Her clit was glistening, red, desperate for attention. Lust smirked, licking her lips. And then she took the pulsating bulb between her lips, running her tongue over it again and again. Olivier's hips shook as she tried to lock her knee. She raised her own arm to her mouth, biting on it hard to muffle the voice enticed out of her lips. This couldn't be her.

Everything began to fall into a dissonance of patterns that somehow was made beautiful. Not a single thought could form in Olivier's mind as the pleasure mounted tenfold, hundredfold, thousand-fold. Without warning, she was jerked into an engulfing orgasm that threatened to swallow her whole. Holding back was becoming impossible. Between muffled moans and aftershocks, Lust began to slow her movements slightly. In the moonlight, Olivier looked down at Lust as if to beg for sympathy, and was met with dancing mischief in Lust's own eyes.

And then, with renewed vigor and a lascivious smirk, Lust sucked hard at her clit. Instantly, Olivier lost her balance, and, feeling her world crumble around her in a whirlwind of pleasure, slipped into complete darkness.

* * *

"Major General…?"

Olivier blinked, trying to focus on her surroundings. Where was she..? She could hear the familiar voices of her men, and could make out the face of Buccaneer. She sat up straight on the stool in a swift motion. "What…" She raised her hand to her head, trying to make sense of the flood of memories that infiltrated her very soul.

"I think you've had too much of a drink tonight." he rested a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "It's dawn. We're heading back."

Right. Celebration. Drinking. She stood up slowly, feeling her body unusually heavy and then her eyes widened at the sudden realization. _Lust._

But she was dressed immaculately, in the same state she could have sworn she entered the tavern in.

"Buccaneer. I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Was there a woman named Lust here tonight at the bar?"

"Lust?" He paused in a moment of confusion, "Not that I know of. If you mean the woman you were talking to for the most part of tonight, her name is Solaris."

"Right." She glanced around quickly, but saw no hint of the woman.

"Strange dreams when you're drunk, huh?" He let out a small chuckle, "Shall we head out? Most of our men have already started heading back."

"Yes." Olivier straightened herself out, taking note that her gun was strapped to her thigh as always. She shook her head gently, letting her hair fall naturally back into place. She made her way to the door as Buccaneer followed her.

"Major General?" There was a tinge of playfulness in his voice, and it annoyed her.

"Mm."

"You may want to cover the mark on your neck. No questions asked."

She flung the door open, and let it slam in his face as she embraced the frigid air once again.


End file.
